I started performing comedy in my late twenties. I hadn’t been on stage in any formal capacity since Primary School. I’d studied Creative Writing at university, and I had really wanted to write scripts, or a sad book, but I hadn’t written anything for years.
I was stuck; I was terrified of being bad at things, and of people laughing at me, so I decided to break the curse of doing nothing by doing something I would definitely be bad at, where being laughed at would actually be a good thing.
I randomly won a tiny trophy at my first gig, quit my job the next day, and here we are.
Cake Gate
I’ve always been quite impulsive. I went to a girls’ school, but boys joined in sixth form, which was overwhelmingly exciting. I fell in love with the first one I saw, but I didn’t know how to speak to him. So I decided to bake him a cake for his birthday to show him how I felt.
I waited outside our history class, lit the candles, and walked up to his desk singing Happy Birthday. Nobody joined in, and he went bright red and silently blew out the candles. Then the teacher carried on with the lesson as if nothing had happened. It had been so painful to watch, she didn’t even want to acknowledge it.
I remember the awkwardness of singing Happy Birthday alone, looking around at everyone’s faces etched with second-hand embarrassment. For years afterwards, I was haunted by that moment. But looking back now, I think it’s kind of cool I put myself out there like that. And I’m thankful I have that instinct.
It was also my first time bombing! A right of passage.
Raphael Neal
Raphael Neal
Bar Mitzvahs And Funerals
Growing up Jewish, I actually started public speaking pretty early. By the time I was 16, I’d done about ten speeches at Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, including my siblings, my friends, and my own.
Telling anecdotal stories, writing punchlines, and the rule of three, were comedy techniques I honed on the Bar Mitzvah circuit. I loved the feeling of preparing for a speech, getting laughs during, and praise afterwards. I knew I was good at it because I was in demand. Those were my first unofficial gigs.
Things got a little harder when my brother died when I was 18, and my reputation as a speech writer was called upon once again at his funeral. That was a pretty tough crowd.
Sometimes now, when I’m about to perform to a silent town hall in the middle of nowhere, I’ll remind myself that no matter how badly it goes, it will never be my worst gig.
Raphael Neal
A Comedy Show At The Bill Murray
About a year before my first actual gig, I went to watch Phoebe Walsh and Amy Annette in a show at The Bill Murray. I spoke to Amy afterwards, and asked her how she got into comedy, slyly taking notes in my head.
She told me she did improv for a while first, so I signed up for a taster session at Free Association. I remember being soooo scared the whole time, and unable to get out of my own head. But I thought, if I can put myself through this then maybe I can put myself through stand up.
I waited another year until my friend Kevin started doing it, followed him to the Cavendish Arms one night, and signed up for my first gig afterwards.
Raphael Neal
Forgetful Therapist
In 2019, pre-stand up, I was working at a magazine. I hated my job and was feeling anxious all the time, so I started getting therapy. My first session with the therapist was great, but she told me afterwards she needed to take a couple of weeks off for a hip replacement. We’d pick back up where we left off when she got back.
When we did, she’d forgotten everything about me, confused me with another patient, and kept talking about my mum’s death (my mum hadn’t died). To change the subject, I told her I was thinking of trying stand up comedy. She was very against the idea, and kept repeating “there are other ways to stand up”.
Maybe she’d worked with comedians in the past and knew the psychological toll of it. But her shutting me down pushed me to do it. I have tried telling the story of my therapist who forgot who I was on stage, but it’s never really worked.
Silkworm
I debuted my first hour of stand up, called Silkworm, last year at Edinburgh Fringe. And I’m taking it on tour this Spring. It’s got a lot of silly stories and embargoed gossip in it, about (but not limited to) going to a girl’s school, being a compulsive liar, and Paul Mescal.
If you’re a horrid girl, or one of our allies, I’d love to see you there.
Sarah Roberts: Silkworm tours in April and May. Click here for information and tickets.
